AN-So this is my take on the whole Andy leaving Sam to go undercover fiasco. There will be a fair amount of angst in this story, because quite frankly I just can't see these two falling into each others arms so easily. This will probably be about 3-4 chapters which I hope to update fairly quickly as this story seems to be writing itself!

- Adult themes are discussed, but nothing too shocking.

- For all those wondering about Loose Lips, the next chapter will be uploaded soon.

Disclaimer: RB isn't mine.

Ab·so·lute

[Ab-suh-loot]

-positive; certain: absolute in opinion; absolute evidence.

-something that is not dependent upon external conditions for existence or for its specific nature, size, etc. (opposed to relative).

Absolute Resolutions: Chapter 1.

Three months after Andy went undercover, Sam moved from his small rented apartment. He secured a twenty year mortgage and moved into a three bedroom house nearer to the city. Closer to work, closer to the gym, closer to…well, everything which was important to him. Interestingly it was further away from Andy's apartment.

He'd taken stock of his life after she had gone and was determined to be a new and improved Sam who relied on hard facts rather than feelings to determine the direction his life was taking.

Fact: Pouring your heart out does not get you the girl of your dreams.

Fact: The only person you can rely on in life is yourself.

"98, 99, 100…" Sam groaned and shifted uncomfortably on the hard wood floor.

Oliver awoke almost instantly after hearing noises in his hallway. Realising that it was Sam's voice, he held his breath and tried to listen to what Sam was saying. Oliver had to concentrate, but he heard it loud and clear.

Sam was counting.

Sitting up, Oliver climbed out of bed and tip-toed to the source of the noise. Feeling her husband shift next to her, Zoe opened her eyes too but did not move.

Pulling open the bedroom door as quietly as he could, Oliver peered outside to see Sam lying on the floor doing abdominal crunches.

"120,121,122..." Sam winced obliviously. He was definitely starting to feel the burn and would soon forget about her when the pain over rid his thoughts. Her sparkly brown eyes, her laugh... God how he missed her laugh. Sam shook his head dismissively as he clenched his jaw and used his stomach muscles to raise himself up from the floor once again.

Sometimes he would sleep peacefully, but more often than he would care to admit his sleep became restless. Tonight was one of those nights. His mind would keep replaying the day she went undercover and left him unaware and alone at the Penny. Sam had realised that letting Andy go was the worst and best possible thing to happen to him. The small voice in his head laughed a little manically then.

'You didn't let her go, she left! You poured out your heart to her, promised her a fucking dog and she still left without even saying goodbye.'

It really hurt. It still did.

"250, 251,252..." he continued through gritted teeth. The pain was excruciating; just exactly what he was looking for.

Bliss... Utopia.

The pain had finally dulled out his thoughts.

...

"How long has he been doing that?" Zoe asked her husband as she nestled closer to peer through the small crack in the door.

"Beats me," Oliver said, dragging his hand wearily over his face. "I think it helps to distract him I suppose... " he shrugged, trying to hide his concern.

"It's 4:30am. You do realise that, right?" Zoe shook her head worryingly. "He was quiet over dinner too," she added.

"I'll talk to him in the morning," Oliver whispered, closing the door softly.

...

Sam stifled a yawn as he poured himself a cup of herbal tea. He grimaced as he took a gulp, not particularly enjoying the bitter taste but could feel the benefits. Zoe always drank the stuff and Andy always swore by it after a yoga session, something about antioxidants.

Sam stretched stiffly and stared at his biceps. He'd managed to build up some more muscle over the last few months and his body was benefiting from his intense daily workouts. Cardiovascular and strength training; he did it all but when he wanted to relax, or just work through a problem he would take a long run. He'd always found that it helped to just let his feet pound the ground heading in no particular direction. It made it easier to figure things out about whatever the problem of the moment happened to be.

He ran almost every day. He almost thought about the same thing everyday too.

'Same thing or same person?'

His eyes drifted to the calendar on his wall. Five months. It had been five months since he'd sat waiting in a bar and she didn't show. He'd spent the first few days feeling sorry for himself and drank far too much alcohol to numb the pain but now he was better. He stopped being so angry and was in total control. He was studying for his detective exams, trained regularly and had regained his appetite. Oliver managed to convince him to come over once a week for a meal, and at times he would sleep over. He fought against it for a while, but he loved Oliver's family as if they were his own.

Sam picked up his cup and walked back to the kitchen table. He sat and took another sip, and flexed his stiff shoulder joints teasing out a knot undoubtedly from the one hundred push ups he did after the five hundred abdominal crunches. He was toying with the idea of a long run before going to work when he was ambushed by Oliver's youngest daughter who climbed into his lap and snuggled sleepily into his chest.

"Breakfast, Uncle Sam," she yawned. "Pop Tarts."

"Sure sweetie," he said softly.

Sam kissed her head as he relaxed into her embrace and the sounds of the Shaw household wakening.

He'd take a run later.

It was the end of the shift before Oliver got a chance to corner Sam. As Sam gathered his things together, Oliver leaned against his locker. "Fancy a quick drink at the Penny? I'm paying" he added.

Sam turned his head to look at his friend, wondering if he was teasing, but he seemed genuine. "And you are buying?" Sam clarified.

An amused smile crept onto Oliver's face. "I'll buy Sammy."

"Then you're on," Sam laughed, slapping him on the back.

...

Oliver opted for a booth rather than a stool at the bar, and Sam did not argue. After their drink orders were place on their table, Oliver watched his friend watch the waitress walk away and then turn his attention to the room in general.

"So how ya been Sammy? We don't get to talk much."

"Fine man, but I have dinner at your place every week since..." he waved his hand.

"Since McNally left," Oliver finished.

Sam remained silent.

Oliver nodded his head slowly, accepting his explanation. Like everything else recently, Sam's answers were clear and carefully thought out.

His friend had changed over the last several months and although not necessarily for the worse, Oliver couldn't help think that something was off. Sam was definitely more focused since McNally's departure, but he wondered how Sam would react when she returned. He missed her bubbly personality, so he could only imagine how Sam felt.

"You sure you don't want anything stronger?" Oliver asked watching Sam nurse a bottle of light beer.

"Nah, I'm good," he smiled watching the waitress once more as she cleared glasses from the bar.

She threw him a smile and turned away. His gaze lingered on her for a few more seconds before taking another sip of beer thoughtfully.

'You need to forget about Andy, You need more sleep, but most of all you really need to get laid!' his mind scolded.

He really would like to get laid.

Sam asked the waitress for her number, which was surprisingly easier than he anticipated. She wrote it on the back on a beer mat and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

Fact: Having sex and making love were two entirely different things.

...

Five months and three days later since Andy's departure, Sam started 'hanging out' with the waitress from the Penny. He had fallen into a regular routine with 'Tanya' and they enjoyed each others company. On his days off they watched movies, ate take-out and had lots of sex. Things were simple. No expectations, sanctioned post coital hugging or romantic whisperings. They cared about one another as friends but that's where the buck stopped as far as Sam was concerned. Love? Been there, done that...

Suddenly, Tanya wanted commitment and for Sam to talk about his feelings. Did he think they had a future? Would he like to get married some day? Did he have feelings for her?

Fact: Despite what they say, you need more than love to make a relationship work. You need to want it to work.

Sam tried to let Tanya down as gently as possible. She said she understood as they had a drink one evening. She asked if there was someone else. Sam said that there wasn't, and that he simply didn't want a serious relationship.

'Liar!'

Things were simple again.

Luke pulled up outside Andy's condo.

"Thanks for the ride," she said.

"Everything's okay, right?" Luke said but she could see in his eyes exactly what he was thinking.

"We're good, Luke. Thanks again."

He nodded once and she unfastened her seat belt.

"Luke..." She said softly.

He turned to face her. He looked tired with hair in desperate need of being cut. The whole operation was hard on all of them.

She smiled then. "I really appreciate you giving me the chance to do this undercover stint. I had a lot to prove."

"How about dinner tomorrow night?" he joked, but Andy couldn't manage even a half decent response for that one as she slipped out of his car. That ship had definitely sailed.

"Night Luke,"

"Night Andy," he said before pulling away from the kerb and driving into the night.

…

Andy desperately wanted to see Sam. Desperately.

She had called him from a pay phone at a gas station, as Luke was filling up and Nick was in the washroom. She left a message that she was back and that she wanted to see him.

As Andy wandered back into her apartment she contemplated her course of action. She couldn't just show up at his door and expect him to forgive her for leaving without telling him. She would wait a while longer, let him listen to her message and then go to his apartment and apologise for everything. Her only hope was that he'd be able to forgive her, and was willing to try again. Charging her cell phone, Andy ran a hot bubble bath as she sat eating dry cereal on the edge of the tub trying to think what she would say when she saw Sam.

After having a bath, changing her bed sheets and doing laundry she had run out of things to do. Unable to wait any longer she grabbed her phone and went looking for Sam. She knew he was not at work; she'd already rung there looking for him.

...

Andy banged her fist against his door, determined to tell him how she really felt. She loved him, she was sorry; she didn't want a dog...maybe a kitten which they could still call Boo.

She continued to knock loudly and picked up its momentum when she heard footsteps behind the door. When the door opened she was greeted by a small European man who spoke very little English. Through sign language and gesticulation she managed to decipher that Sam had left.

"He's gone?" She asked shocked.

"Yes gone," the man nodded.

Her face must have been a picture, as the man patted her shoulder sympathetically and gave her a tissue when she started to cry. She didn't even notice it had started to rain.

After a tearful phone call to Traci, who managed to speak to Noelle, who unbeknown to either had consulted Oliver, Andy finally had Sam's new address. She clutched the back of a receipt where she had managed to scribble his address. So many emotions were running through her.

Is he in trouble? Why did he move? Is he living with someone else?

That last thought caused the bile to rise in her throat.

...

A little after 10:00pm that evening, a soft knock sounded at Sam's door. He was sitting on the settee, watching the news and eating cold leftover noodles. Setting it down on the coffee table, he walked over to see who was there.

Checking through the blinds, he immediately recognised her tall frame and hurriedly thrown together messy ponytail.

She'd finally come back, but he was prepared. He had been preparing for this day the last eight months.

Sam cautiously opened the door a few inches, not sure yet if he was ready to talk yet. He'd spent the majority of his afternoon training and now did not seem like the best time to have a discussion about their feelings.

"Hey," he said simply, pulling the door open the rest of the way. His voice had a definite edge to it. "What are you doing here?"

She blinked away a few stubborn tears. "I wanted..." she started, but stopped short. Pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts, she took a deep breath. "You moved."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, I know."

She looked down at the floor, embarrassed. "I…Look; I don't know what to say to make this right. I screwed up, Sam and I know it."

Sam sighed deeply, and stared at something in the distance. He cleared his throat.

Fact: You can't help who you love, but you can help what you do about it.

"McNally…Andy…w-we can't keeping doing this to one another," he said softly. He willed himself to keep going.

'You have to say this. You know it makes sense.'

"I know we can't. I'm sorry I left, I really am."

"I was too. But it's okay that things didn't work out between us. We just need to do our own thing now…"

"What do you mean do our own thing?"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Andy, it's late, and the weather doesn't look like it's going to let up anytime soon. You should go home. Rest."

He closed the door firmly, as Andy stood standing outside in the rain, speechless.

...

To be continued…